Morning arrived quietly.
A thin layer of mist drifted across the forest floor, wrapping the trees in pale gray shadows. Dew clung to the grass, and the cool air carried the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.
The world looked calm.
Peaceful.
Untroubled.
But Arin knew better.
Peace never lasted.
He stood in the clearing behind the village, his small hands clenched into fists.
Across from him, the knight watched silently.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp.
Unforgiving.
"Again," the knight said.
Arin inhaled deeply.
Slow.
Steady.
Controlled.
He closed his eyes.
Focused.
The memory returned instantly.
The fear.
The danger.
The moment when the beast had nearly killed them.
The moment when something inside him had awakened.
He tried to reach that feeling again.
Tried to summon it.
Nothing happened.
Silence filled the clearing.
Only the sound of wind moving through the trees.
Arin opened his eyes.
Frustration burned quietly in his chest.
"I can't do it," he admitted.
The knight stepped forward slowly.
His boots pressed firmly into the dirt.
His voice remained calm.
"Good."
Arin blinked.
Confused.
"Good?" he repeated.
The knight nodded once.
"Yes."
He paused.
Then spoke clearly.
"Because power you can control easily is usually weak."
The words settled heavily in the boy's mind.
The knight stopped a few steps away.
Close enough to be heard.
Close enough to be understood.
"What you felt before," he continued,
"was not strength."
A brief pause.
"It was survival."
Arin swallowed.
The knight knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the boy.
His expression serious.
Steady.
Honest.
"Your power appears only when you are in danger," he said.
Arin's eyes widened slightly.
"So… I can't use it whenever I want?" he asked.
The knight shook his head.
"No."
He placed a firm hand over the boy's chest.
Right above his heart.
"This power has rules."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Important.
Arin listened carefully.
Every word mattered.
"First rule," the knight said.
"Your power protects you."
A brief pause.
"Second rule."
His voice lowered slightly.
"It takes something from you."
Arin's chest tightened.
"What does it take?" he asked.
The knight held his gaze.
Unflinching.
Serious.
"Strength."
He removed his hand slowly.
"Energy."
Another pause.
"And eventually…"
His voice grew quieter.
"Your life."
The words landed like a stone.
Cold.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Arin felt fear crawl slowly up his spine.
He remembered the weakness.
The dizziness.
The blood from his nose.
The knight stood again.
His posture firm.
Certain.
"You cannot rely on power alone," he said.
He stepped backward and picked up a wooden training sword from the ground.
Then tossed it toward the boy.
Arin caught it clumsily.
The weight surprised him.
From a distance, the mysterious cloaked man watched silently from the edge of the clearing.
Hidden in shadow.
Observing.
Measuring.
Waiting.
The knight drew his own training blade.
"Today," he said,
"we begin with the most important skill."
He raised the sword slowly.
"Survival."
Without warning—
He attacked.
The wooden blade cut through the air toward Arin's shoulder.
Fast.
Precise.
Controlled.
Arin reacted too slowly.
THUD.
The strike landed.
Pain shot through his arm.
He stumbled backward.
Shock flashed across his face.
"That hurt!" he protested.
The knight lowered his sword slightly.
Unmoved.
"Yes," he said calmly.
Arin stared at him.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Angry.
The knight stepped forward again.
His voice firm.
Unyielding.
"Pain is a teacher," he said.
Another step.
"And today…"
He raised the sword once more.
"…class has begun."
The wind picked up suddenly.
Leaves swirled through the clearing.
The forest seemed to lean closer.
Watching.
Waiting.
And far away—
Beyond mountains.
Beyond rivers.
Beyond the borders of the kingdom—
A group of armored riders moved silently through the night.
Their cloaks dark.
Their weapons sharp.
Their mission clear.
Find the boy.
The hunt had begun.